Taxi
by tanseynz
Summary: Inspired by the song of the same name by Harry Chapin. Sookie and Eric meet again after many years. She is a taxi driver, he her passenger.


Taxi

This is inspired by the song of the same name by Harry Chapin.

The rain was bucketing down, turning the streetlights into blurred balls of sulphur, and the streets into shiny ribbons of black liquorice when I pulled my taxi in at a set of traffic lights in response to a wave from a tall figure. One last fare and then I could have a spliff and get some overdue pain-free sleep. My back was aching, a sure sign I'd overdone it.

A gust of chilly wind blew down my neck as the door opened, and I was glad I'd worn a blue checked flannel shirt over my black polo-necked sweater, and my old blue denim cap warmed my head and kept my mostly blond hair from falling into my eyes.

As he slid in to sit in the right hand corner of the back seat, I turned to glance over my shoulder at him, and was riveted by a pair of glacial blue eyes.

'Where you going to, blue eyes?' A little flirting never went amiss, and often garnered me a better tip. 'Pity your handsome suit got ruined by the rain.'

A quiet deep voice merely said, 'Sixteen Parkside Lane.' And I saw, through the rear vision mirror, he was looking out the window.

I put the taxi into gear and slipped into the stream of traffic, but something about him was catching at my memory, and I glanced once or twice at him through the mirror. The eyes, that long wheaten hair pulled back into a sleek tail, the subtle dent in the strong jaw.

'Haven't I seen your face before, a while back though, I think.'

After a moment he quietly said, 'I'm sure you're mistaken.'

There was a long silence, so I concentrated on driving, although, now it was getting pretty late at night, the traffic was thinning out.

I studied her through the mirror, the heart shaped face with just a few lines around the eyes, the soft blonde of her hair, streaked with just a touch of frost, then looked down at the acrylic covered taxi license plate bolted to the seat back, and read her name, then reread it again. After a moment, I looked up at her face again through the mirror, and saw her eyes looking back at me, and I forced a smile to my lips. Probably not much of a smile, as she looked sad for a split second.

'How are you, Sookie?' I asked.

'How are you, Eric?' she replied, smiling back tiredly at me through the mirror. 'I still remember you.'

So long ago it was, as if in a fairytale, we used to date when we were in our last year of high school. I had an old Dodge, and we would climb into the back seat on a Saturday night and kiss and kiss and kiss, and eventually it lead to something more. But graduation came.

He'd been one of the best in the theatre group, and won a scholarship to a prestigious university which had an acting school that had started off many a leading actor, on the stage and in films. But it was far across the country.

And meantime, she'd always wanted to join the Air Force and be a pilot, and that last year they finally started taking women into their flight programme, and she'd been accepted. But it was on the opposite side of the country.

I was glad I'd been driving for quite a few years, as the memories swamped me for a minute or so while my movements became automatic. I remembered the anger when the plane I was learning in failed when I came into land due to a stupid mechanical fault. All my plans and dreams evaporated in smoke during those months in a hospital bed with a broken back, and my fury consumed me for a while. Fury turned to frustration at the limits on my life and the ongoing pain, the Air Force discharging me, and the slow resignation that earning enough to survive was all I was likely to be able to do. Pot helped when painkillers failed, and the taxi earned enough for some of that.

He spoke a little, of the roles he'd played, the films he'd been in, the personalities he'd met. But he didn't say anything about how his name had begun to disappear from view, the less important roles he'd played, the flops he'd been associated with.

The few words we spoke dried up, neither of us really caring what the other said, although I did make a point of saying we must get together some time, and looking out the window I was almost relieved to see we'd arrived at my house. She drove slowly through the open gates and up the driveway, and I saw her flick a glance at the polished surroundings and the floodlit exterior of the house as she drew to a stop outside the front door.

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a twenty and handed it over the seat back, telling her to keep the change as I figured from the little she'd said, money was tight. Her lips pressed together for a moment and I watched her hesitate and then accept it and tuck it into the breast pocket of her worn flannel shirt. Then I got out and walked up the steps to the door without looking back, pausing only under the overhang as my cell phone buzzed. It was my agent. A rare phonecall indeed, these days.

'Eric.'

'Pam.'

'I've got a possible role in a TV series for you.'

I scowled.

'I don't do TV, Pam. You know that.'

'Right now, Eric, you don't do anything.' Her reply was sharp. 'That house is expensive, and if you really want to keep it, this is all I've got for you.'

I had nothing to say to that.

'It's a co-starring role, which might appeal to you, and they specifically asked for you to audition, as you're the right look.'

I tried to summon some enthusiasm.

'So what's the role?'

'A sheriff in Louisianna.'

'How exactly am I the right look for that? 'I asked. I'd never worn a cowboy hat in any role, nor in real life, for that matter.

'Because you're also a thousand year old Viking vampire.'

Fuck me!

'OK, send me the script…'

I turned the taxi out of the elegant gateway and back up the wet road, stopping at the corner to flick off the illuminated taxi sign on the roof, and reach under my seat for the spliff tucked into a secret pocket. Lighting up, and blowing out a mouthful of smoke, I gave a quick glance back through the rearview mirror at the brightly lit house, and the tall figure standing on the front step gesticulating as he talked on his cell, and then I drove away, looking forward to a coffee and a buzz, and a quiet dark night.


End file.
